


the renegade who had it made retrieved for a bounty

by notthebigspoon



Series: Mystery in the Making [9]
Category: Baseball RPF, White Collar
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 14:16:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthebigspoon/pseuds/notthebigspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They'd talked about this. They knew that Neal was going to have go back sooner or later. They have to make the last night count.</p><p>Title taken from Renegade by Styx.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the renegade who had it made retrieved for a bounty

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after [ the jig is up, the news is out](http://archiveofourown.org/works/491831) and before [ you better have soul and nothing less](http://archiveofourown.org/works/475712), [ don't lose your head when the deal goes down](http://archiveofourown.org/works/476101) and [ i was never one to believe the hype, save that for the black and white](http://archiveofourown.org/works/476331).

When Tim hangs up his cellphone and puts it on the table, he has tears in his eyes. He buries his face in his hands and shakes his head slowly, moaning a quiet no. Neal doesn't know what's going on, he'd been in the kitchen with Cy and Kayo, slipping them bits of sausage that was supposed to be going into the clam sauce even though Tim doesn't like for them to eat table scraps.

“Tim... what's wrong?”

“Burke is coming.”

This is what it feels like when the world drops out from under you. It wasn't that Neal wasn't expecting it. He'd been discussing it with Tim. They both knew that he couldn't both be with Tim and stay on the run forever. Their best bet, to save them both, was for Neal to turn himself in and drag someone down with him so he could maybe stay out of prison. A go between had been Tim's idea, even though Neal didn't like trusting his fate in the hands of someone he'd never met.

He didn't like it. It didn't mean he wouldn't do it. If Tim trusted someone, then Neal was going to take it on faith. After all, he's met Sandoval and Sandoval hasn't ratted him out yet.

Dinner can wait. He turns the sauce down on a simmer and walks into the living room. He sits next to Tim, doesn't touch him because sometimes you have to wait for Tim to come to you. When he turns inward, there's the signal, and Neal slides close, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. “What happened?”

“Stew want to see him this morning, and tonight, after his game. He says Burke says the best you can hope for is for your original sentence to be reinstated. Back on your anklet and back on a radius. But you could also go to prison.”

“Tim... we knew this was going to be a risk. We knew I was going back to New York no matter what. We just don't know what's going to happen when I get there.”

Tim sniffles and Neal knows he's crying. He hates it. Because in spite of what people think, of what they say about Tim being emotional, he doesn't cry. He gets angry. He screams and he shouts and he'll destroy whatever he can get his hands on but he just doesn't cry. Neal rests his cheek against Tim's hair, smells that insanely expensive shampoo that he's not going to be able to steal anymore and tries to remember how this feels. Until he's played out his sentence, he's not going to get this very often. He might not get it back at all.

Until the shoulders stop shaking, until the snuffling becomes practically inaudible, the only movements Neal makes are slow and steady rubs of Tim's back. The dogs bump against their legs, looking confused, and it makes Tim sit up and wipe his face. Neal leans in, pushes the hair sticking to his cheeks out of the way and presses one soft kiss against his lips.

This is their last night together for a long time. It's not gonna be perfect but Neal already knows that it's a memory he's always going to live with.

He gets up and he finishes dinner with Tim hovering in the kitchen, stealing bites and forcing smiles. They eat dinner and Neal manipulates him into talking about the day's game. Neal has never used tricks on him, up until this point, but now he needs Tim to think about anything else in the world other than the fact that in hours, mere hours, life as they've known it until now is going to be over.

Tim's not stupid though. Tim knows what he's doing. They're both watching the clock. Hazarding a guess at average flight times and deducting the time since Stewart called Tim, they probably have around six hours. Tim doesn't call him on it though, just calmly helps him clean up the kitchen and put things away. They make to go to the living room and Tim pins him against the counter, pressing their lips together.

It's sweet for all of ten seconds before Tim's mouth is opening against his. Tim's arms loop around his neck and Neal runs his hands under Tim's t-shirt, pulling him until their bodies are pressed flush. This is the last time. This is the last time for a long time. It's a memory he has to make count.

This is not staggering down the hall, flinging clothes everywhere... which means it's nothing like their first time. This is Tim leading Neal to the bedroom with their fingers laced together. Clothes are removed slowly, process drawn out by a kiss between each article removed. Tim lays back on the bed and pulls Neal down with him. He's a tactile person anyway but as Neal preps him, he just can't seem to stop touching. Arms, chest, back, cheek. Touchtouchtouch.

Their bodies move together fluidly, a comfortable intimacy that Neal has never found with anyone else. Tim's hands curl over his shoulders. The leg looped around Neal's waist draws him in deeper and Neal swallows the gasps and moans in kisses, his own hand smoothing down Tim's side and up his leg.

They come, tumbling one after the other like dominoes. Tim clings to Neal like he never wants to let him go. Neal wishes that he never had to.

They shower together. There's more kisses, more touches that communicate better than words ever possibly could. Neal feels like he can physically feel every second that's slipping away from them. They're on the edge of time being out, at the beginning of the time frame when Peter could possibly arrive. They curl on the couch, Tim's face tucked into Neal's shoulder.

The knock on the door comes before they're both ready. Tim stays on the couch as Neal climbs the steps out of the living room and into the foyer. Neal looks over his shoulder, just to remember for a moment. Tim's chin is on his knees and his arms are wrapped around his legs. He manages, somehow, to both look resigned and like a prisoner experiencing the last twist of the rack.

He opens the door. And there's Peter. Peter who looks exactly like someone would if they worked all day and then took a cross country flight. Peter who gave Neal the signal to run, who wasn't going to let Kramer take him. Peter who he hasn't seen in months. He steps back, lets Peter inside, shuts the door.

This is the man that's coming to take him away from the man he loves and return him to a life of servitude, a life with little freedom. It doesn't stop Neal from stepping forward and hugging him as tightly as he can. Because this is Peter, who he's missed so bad that he could barely breathe sometimes.

“You know what I have to do.”

“I do.”

“I don't know what's going to happen to you.”

“I know you don't.”

“We don't have a lot of time. I don't know if another agent followed me.”

“Okay. I need to say goodbye.”

Peter doesn't say anything, just nods. Tim is standing on the living room steps, looking up at Neal as if he's been betrayed. When Neal says he needs to say goodbye, he climbs the steps, tries to speak. He stops and clenches his teeth, wiping his face and shaking his head. He doesn't want Neal to go and Neal never wants to leave him. 

He draws Tim in, wraps his arms around him tight and takes another breath of that hair. Tips his chin up and kisses him, resting their foreheads together, “M'gonna be back. Don't know when. But... one of these days I will. Gonna come see me next time you're in New York?”

“Don't care where you are. M'gonna be there. Love you.”

“Do you?” Neal asks, grinning.

“Yes, you idiot.”

“Good. Cause I love you too.”

They kiss... once and twice and then one more time and Neal steps back. Peter said they didn't have much time and if he doesn't stop himself now, Neal will never be able to leave. He glances at Peter, gives him a look and Peter nods, turning away and stepping out the front door. Tim surges forward, pulls Neal into one soft kiss before letting go and turning away.

Neal walks out and refuses to let himself look back. He gets into the rented SUV and takes one last look. One last look at the house where he's spent the happiest weeks in his life. Peter says something that Neal doesn't hear but sounds like apology and Neal feels cuffs circling his wrists and tightening. Without Tim in front of him, he can't keep the brave face up. All he can think of is that he doesn't know how long it's going to be until he sees Tim again.

“I'm going to miss you baby.” He whispers, leaning against the door and pressing his forehead against the window.


End file.
